A/N: Hello everyone! I know it's been a while (three years I think?). This is a rewrite to "A New Beginning" since I lost interest in it and wasn't satisfied with the plot. This version is fairly different (I think it's much better) and if anyone would like to take over A New Beginning feel free to do so (just PM me so I know) otherwise it will remain unfinished. In the years since my last story I feel my writing has greatly improved and matured. And just so you know the timeframe of this story would be when the TV series started (season 1-1993). So enjoy and don't forget to leave a review!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, except Mr. John Stevenson, he's all mine. I'm just borrowing them for entertainment purposes only.

Chapter 1

Fran finished putting on her earrings and stared at her reflection in the mirror, letting out a sigh. She disliked these gatherings and parties for the socially elite. Being from Queens and inheriting her family's quirks and mannerisms, it was difficult to fit in with the "fancy" and the "schmancy," as she liked to say. But her fiancé, John, was invited to attend a benefit for a children's charity, and he convinced her to attend with him.

"Think of all those underprivileged kids out there," he had said a week ago when he presented her with the invitation. Ok, he'd played the guilt card on her, which Fran has been victim to her whole life via her mother. "And you love kids." If he didn't convince her earlier he had her there. Kids were her weakness, Fran knew. She dreamed of kids and a husband and family of her own for as long as she could remember. And it didn't help when she had a mother who constantly pointed out she had neither. But soon she would be married, this summer to be exact, and hopefully not too long after they'd have children.

Fran smiled at the thought. For the kids, she kept reminding herself, I can tolerate these fancy, stuck-up New Yorkers.

"Honey, are you ready?" John called from the other side of the bathroom door. "I don't want to be late."

Fran smoothed her lipstick over her lips one more time then combed her fingers through her curled hair, which was pulled up high atop her head. "I'm comin', I'm comin'," she said in an exaggerated way that made them both laugh.

She emerged from the bathroom in an ankle length black dress that took his breath away. His eyes took in every curve and inch of exposed skin and sparkling piece of jewelry. The neckline was cut low, exposing just the right amount of cleavage to still be sophisticated.

John took her hand in his and spun her around, getting the view from all sides, then pulled her in close. "Fran, you look beautiful," he said. "So beautiful in fact that I don't know if I want to attend this benefit anymore. I don't think I could stand all those pretentious men staring at you all night."

Fran placed a hand on his cheek. "How sweet of you to say, but we both know how important this evening is to you. It'll be a first for both of us. Your investment friend will be there, and so will I."

He smiled down at her, brown eyes shining back at him. "I love you, you know that?"

Fran tossed her head back and laughed. "I do." She paused, letting the true meaning of the words sink in. "Wow, just think we'll be saying those words in August. I can hardly wait."

Her eyes sparkled and he leaned down and kissed her, light and sweet. "Mmm, neither can I. But we should get going. The future Mr. and Mrs. Stevenson need to make a lasting impression."

Fran's smile widened even more. Just the title 'Mrs. Stevenson' made her insides flutter and melt. She would never tire of hearing it. "Then let's go Mr. Stevenson."

With a playful grin and his best ostentatious acting, he held out his arm and Fran gladly accepted. They left their apartment laughing and smiles gracing their lips.

The benefit was held in a spacious and luxurious apartment in the Upper East Side. Butlers and maids roamed with platters of hours d'oeuvres and flutes of golden champagne. Men and women elegantly dressed in black conversed and mingled; idle gossip here, hearty laughs there. It was a typical upperclass gathering, neat and proper, nothing missing.

In the center of a group of four Maxwell Sheffield smiled and chuckled for the hundredth time. He patted his companion on the back as he finished recounting a story. It was the fifth investment story he heard that evening, each one about an investment gone wrong that surprisingly turned out beneficial.

By now he could feel his cheeks grow tired and strained from smiling all night. The three men he was conversing with excused themselves and Maxwell finally let his facial muscles relax. He downed the rest of his champagne and immediately went in search of another.

"Have you spoken with Clyde Phillips yet," a feminine voice purred in his ear. Maxwell turned to face his business partner, CC, and handed her a flute of champagne before claiming one for himself. Much to his chagrin, she latched on to his arm like a lobster and wheeled him across the room.

For ten minutes Maxwell listened to investment banker Clyde Phillips talk about the stock market. As much as Maxwell liked being caught up in the trade, his attention just wasn't focused. And it didn't make it any better with CC hanging on to his arm like a shipwrecked survivor. With the amount of time they spend together assembling plays and musicals she seemed to think they were much more than business partners. He'd play along, being careful not to take her actions seriously, but business partners was all she was to him. He'd never thought of CC in a romantic way, ever. Since the passing of his wife a few years back, her intentions have been stronger and more aggressive. But he feared that if he was too forward with her about their business-only relationship, he might lose her friendship and confidence as a colleague.

Clyde presented Maxwell with an envelope—a check for his play—and slipped it into the pocket of his tuxedo jacket. They shook hands and Maxwell expressed his thanks for the support of his new play. After Mr. Phillips left he turned to face CC, a big smile on his face.

"Oh, CC, I can't believe you were able to snag Clyde Phillips into backing our show," Maxwell said. "With his name as one of our supporters the theaters will be filling like mad."

"What did I tell you earlier? I am the best partner a man can have." She gave him a flirtatious smile, which he noticed, and smoothed her fingers over the lapel of his jacket. Maxwell blushed slightly, trying to ignore her lingering touch. Suddenly, a high-pitched laugh caught his attention and he looked over in the direction of its owner.

A woman he guessed to be in her late twenties or early thirties was smiling with a small group of men and women. She wore an ankle length black dress with a shimmering diamond necklace. Dark curls were piled high and away from her perfect face, a tendril or two dangling next to her jeweled ears. She threw her head back and let out the same nasally laugh, showing pearly white teeth and red lips. Maxwell couldn't take his eyes off her. She was beautiful, stunning, gorgeous . . . He was running out of adjectives to describe her.

CC noticed his lack of attention and turned to see what he was staring at. She put a finger to her temple when the woman laughed again, cringing at the sound. "What an obnoxious laugh," she said.

"CC!" Maxwell scolded. "Don't be so rude. You haven't even met the woman." He continued to stare in her direction, entranced, lost in thought. He was smiling again and CC wasn't happy about it. She could sense when she was being threatened by another woman's allure.

"I'm going to go introduce us. Let her know about the play." He was talking to himself at this point. "I've never seen her at other parties, but maybe she'll donate a little something." Maxwell handed CC his half empty flute of champagne and strolled over to the woman who captured his attention.

On the way over he almost stopped and turned back around, thinking what a disastrous idea it was to talk with this woman. He hadn't felt the attraction of another woman since his wife, and the thought scared him. What are you doing? his mind screamed. You can't just walk over there and talk with her. But I'm single, he silently relayed. It won't develop into anything, he assured himself. He inhaled a deep breath, in and out, then stepped closer to the group. One of the men recognized him, thank goodness, and smoothly invited him into the conversation.

"Maxwell!" the deep voice exclaimed loudly. "Where have you been tonight? I've been meaning to find you."

Maxwell laughed. "Good to see you too, William." The two men patted each other on the back. William immediately jumped into his speech about Max's new play while Maxwell risked a sideways glance at the woman. She was quiet now, obviously not interested in the new topic of conversation. She smiled at him in a friendly way, as if to say nice to meet you. He returned it but was pulled back to William's loud voice.

"Spare me a few front row tickets, eh?" William asked, handing Maxwell a check.

"Of course. And give my regards to your wife," Maxwell responded, shaking his hand.

The group dispersed, leaving Maxwell by himself along with the beautiful woman. After a moment he gathered his courage and spoke. "Hi," he said. His voice almost went up an octave and he could feel his cheeks start to burn. He probably looked like a ripe tomato. Great, he thought.

"Hi," she replied, giving him another inviting smile.

Maxwell looked down at his feet, completely at a loss for words. C'mon, old boy, he encouraged himself. You can do this. He could feel her eyes penetrating his stooped form, waiting. He gazed back up at her and offered her his hand and she shook it with a firm grasp. "I'm Maxwell Sheffield."

"Fran Fine," she said, letting go of his hand. "I get the impression that you're an important man."

Instantly her unique voice mesmerized him. "Why would you say that?" He smiled sheepishly.

"That man just handed you a check."

"Oh, yeah, um . . ." Again, Maxwell looked down at his feet, feigning embarrassment. After a few seconds he looked back up at her. "I produce musical theater. Functions like this are sort of a requirement if I want to stay in business."

She nodded. "Have you donated to the children's charity yet?"

"Not yet. I attend lots of parties like this and I get pulled in ten different directions from the moment I step through the door. I feel like I haven't had a chance to breathe. But I promise you, it will be my next priority."

She tilted her head to the side, and he suspected she approved of his answer. He did donate to the charities whenever he attended a benefit, he isn't cold hearted, and he didn't lie when he said he was pulled in ten different directions. A waiter walked by and Maxwell picked two flutes of champagne off the silver tray and handed one to Fran. They clinked glasses and both took a sip of the golden liquid.

"Is this your first time attending one of these benefits?" Maxwell asked.

A faint flush spread across her pale cheeks. "Am I that obvious?"

"Not at all. As a matter of fact you look extremely comfortable—I mean you look at ease, calm." He could feel his forehead start to perspire. He reached up and straightened his bow tie.

She giggled rather girlishly—girlishly?—at his nervousness and it made him smile. "Actually, this is my first time at a soiree as fancy as this," she said, her New York accent becoming more apparent to his ears. He decided he liked it just as much as her laugh.

"Well, Fran, you look very lovely tonight." Was that too much? he wondered. Again, her cheeks turned red.

"And you look just as handsome, Maxwell."

He watched her eyes widen and she looked away, realizing how forward she must have sounded.

"I'm sorry," she said, "that was inappropriate of me. I shouldn't have—"

"That's alright. I started it." They smiled at each other again. It seemed that once one of them started the other followed. Then they fell silent, both unsure of what to say.

Maxwell opened his mouth to say something, but a voice interrupted him.

"Honey, there you are," a gentle voice crooned. A man about Maxwell's height stepped beside Fran. He had short, cropped brown hair, dark eyes and was dressed in a black suit. Maxwell didn't recognize him. The man wrapped an arm around Fran's waist protectively, pulling her closer to him. He placed a kiss on her cheek before acknowledging Max.

"John Stevenson, how's it goin'?" he said casually.

Maxwell scrunched his eyebrows, assuming he wasn't a backer or investor. John gripped Max's hand a little too strong and shook it animatedly. "Maxwell Sheffield, nice to meet you," he said in his most polite voice.

"Sheffield? Oh, the producer! Honey," he turned to Fran, "this is the producer Harry is investing with." Now back to Max, "He says your new play is supposed to be really good."

Really good? That was all Harry had to say about the play he spent months working with and assembling? "At least I think so." He let out a nervous laugh, immediately growing uncomfortable in front of the couple. It was then that he noticed the simple diamond ring adorning Fran's left hand when she raised her champagne flute to her red lips. He could feel a pain in the pit of his stomach for reasons he was too afraid to consider. Instead he said, "May I offer you a pair of tickets to opening night? My treat. Fran has been excellent company and I enjoyed talking with her this evening."

"Oh, Maxwell, are you sure?" Fran said.

"I insist."

John smiled over at Fran and shook Max's hand again. Bloody hell, the man sure has a strong grip, Max thought.

"Thank you Mr. Sheffield, that's very generous of you," John replied.

"Please, call me Maxwell."

They both nodded and an awkward silence ensued. Max noticed the couple exchanging glances, obviously wanting to make an exit.

"If you'll excuse me . . ." Maxwell trailed off.

"Thanks again, Maxwell," Fran said, smiling back at him, resting a hand on his forearm. He gazed into her deep brown eyes for a brief moment, savoring the sight of her in that dress, before politely turning on his heel.

Maxwell returned to find CC talking to some woman he'd never met before. He stood and watched as Fran and John made their way to the door of the apartment. He felt a surge of jealousy he didn't even know existed take over him. What was there to be jealous of? It's not as if he wanted Fran for himself. He needed to think about something else.

He looked around the spacious apartment, still alive and filled with guests, though now starting to thin out. He heard a feminine laugh and instantly thought of Fran's higher pitched one. He pictured her still standing in front of him, just the two of them, smiling, no one else in the room. He reached out to take her hand in his, but she was gone, and he is alone.

When they arrived back at their apartment, Fran and John changed out of their evening wear and into something more comfortable. Fran pulled back the bed sheets and climbed in, letting out a yawn. They didn't return home from the party until well after midnight. She had nowhere important to be the next day so she was glad she could sleep in if she wanted to.

John was walking back and forth from their bedroom to the bathroom, brushing his teeth. "I think tonight went very well, don't you think?" he replied.

Fran had trouble understanding him as he talked around his toothbrush. He repeated himself more clearly when he exited the bathroom, teeth clean and white. "Uh-huh," was all she said.

He climbed in beside her and turned on his side, resting on an elbow. "It was very generous of Mr. Sheffield to offer tickets to his play. And on opening night! You'll be free from your cousin then won't you?"

Fran faced him, rolling on to her side as well. "I should be. When is it? Next week?"

John nodded in reply. "I'm so glad Harry invited me—us—to the benefit."

Fran placed a hand on his cheek, gently caressing his chin with her thumb. "Now you'll be able to move up in the banking business. Soon you'll be an investor just like Harry, no longer just a teller. Sweetie, I'm so proud of you."

He smiled at her, feeling his love for her grow stronger and stronger everyday. He leaned over and captured her lips in a passionate kiss. Her hand moved from his cheek and curled around his neck, holding him in place as their tongues battled for dominance. When he pulled away he just stared at her. "Love you," he said.

"I love you, too," she responded. He kissed her cheek then turned off the bedside lamp and laid down on his back, his eyes closing immediately. Fran was glad his kiss didn't go any further. She was just as exhausted as him, but she knew that if they were intimate with each other she wouldn't be as playful or passionate as he usually was. Maxwell Sheffield had been on her mind from the moment they left the benefit.

Oy, that lean frame and dark hair, she thought. And that alluring British accent of his was enough to make her weak in the knees. Fran knew she shouldn't be having these thoughts. She was engaged to be married for heaven's sake! It's just an innocent attraction, she reminded herself, nothing more. Everyone has that feeling don't they? Fran was confident he'd be out of her head by morning and everything would be as it should. The man beside her loved her, and she loved him. What more could she ask for?

Fran and Val were on their way to Central Park. It was a beautiful April morning so they decided to walk and drink their coffee instead of sitting in a crowded coffeehouse. The sounds of spring were mesmerizing to Fran and daydreaming was becoming more frequent as of late. She didn't know why. Maybe because she was finally happy she didn't have to worry about being alone forever or facing her family's pressure to find a husband.

". . . So I told Danny I was through with having to put up with Heather. Thankfully I didn't lose my job," Val was saying.

Fran finally snapped out of her reverie. "Val, I keep tellin' ya, you have to move on from that bridal shop. I did when Danny dumped me and it was the best decision I ever made."

"Yeah, but Fran, you have family connections. All my family is good at is fixing a toilet and repairing a sink. I mean, what kind of work is that for a woman like me?"

They found a bench near a row of trees and sat down, glad to be shaded from the bright sun. "Oh, Val, don't worry. If you want I can see if Toddy needs another assistant. I'm sure he wouldn't turn you down; he knows how important you are to me. And wouldn't it be fun to work together again?"

"Thanks, Fran, but I think I'd rather find something on my own."

Fran was proud of Val. She'd become so much more confident and independent. She liked to think it was her quitting that job at the bridal shop that made Val into who she was now.

"So how was the party last night?" Val asked. "Did you meet any rich, single men?"

They burst out laughing. Fran playfully slapped Val on the wrist. "Val! You know I'm engaged."

"I know, it just seems so weird because for so long you were single, and everybody thought you would end up alone."

Fran gave Val a look. "Well those days are over, thank God! What about you? I haven't seen you with someone since you went out with that Italian guy. What happened to him?"

Val shook her head in disappointment. "Ugh, Fran, I found out he was seeing someone else."

"Aw, I'm sorry, Val."

"Yeah, so was he."

"Well he should be. He's the one that cheated on you."

"No, the other man he was seeing." Val shook her head again and Fran rolled her eyes at her friend's cluelessness. It was just how Val was but Fran loved her anyway.

"Brighton, don't go too far ahead!" a voice yelled.

Fran and Val turned to see a small, blond-haired boy run past them down the sidewalk, a football tucked under his arm. A stout, middle-aged woman huffed after him and two girls trailed right behind her.

Fran watched the boy join a group playing football. The two girls were seated next to the older woman on a bench across the walkway. The eldest girl was looking off in the distance, shoulders slumped, while her sister (Fran assumed) was staring down at her shoes swinging back and forth. Fran felt her heart strings break at the sight.

"Oh, Val," Fran sighed, "it just pains me to see kids so unhappy."

Val looked towards the two girls and nodded in sympathy. "I know. And one day soon you'll have a child of your own to give all your love to. You're gonna be a terrific mother, Fran."

Fran squeezed one of Val's hands. "Thanks, Val. And I know John will be just as wonderful a father. He told me he's been picturing what our future children will look like. Isn't that romantic?"

Val nodded in response. "Fran, you are so lucky to have found him. I just wish I could find somebody who makes me as happy as John makes you."

"Don't worry, Val. You'll find someone. Sometimes it just takes longer than we expected—"

"No!" a young voice shrieked. "You're not my mother! I don't have to listen to you!"

Fran and Val turned to see the older girl from the bench storm off into the park. The older woman was standing, her face ashen. The younger sister remained quiet but Fran could see her little shoulders shaking from the outburst. Fran had been keeping a watchful eye on the two girls since they walked by, and now, she decided, she wasn't going to sit there and do nothing.

Fran stood up and approached the little girl. She was wearing the most adorable pale pink dress Fran had ever seen. And her black Mary Janes and white stockings completed the ensemble perfectly.

"Hi, sweetie," Fran said tentatively. She could feel the eyes of the older woman scrutinizing her.

The girl looked up at Fran and hesitated before speaking. "Hi," she said, almost too quiet for Fran to hear.

"What's your name, angel?"

The girl turned her head and looked away, feeling shy and confused as to why this woman was trying to speak with her.

"This is Grace," the older woman interjected. "I'm her nanny. And if you'll excuse us, we have two siblings to round up and take home."

Fran was a little taken back by the sharp tone of the nanny. "I'm sorry for intruding, I just—Grace just looked so sad I thought I could try and cheer her up."

"Well thank you for the kind consideration but I'm the nanny. It's my job to care for the children, not yours." The woman tried to take hold of Grace's hand but she jerked away and threw her little arms around Fran's waist instead.

The girl's sudden action surprised Fran, but she pulled Grace closer, wrapping an arm around her small frame. "It's okay, Grace," Fran soothed, bending down to the girl's level. "My name's Fran."

Grace pulled her face back from where it was buried in Fran's stomach. "Are you going to take us home instead?" she asked, giving Fran a pensive look.

"Well," Fran hesitated, "that isn't for me to decide. Your nanny is the one that takes care of you, so she'll be the one to take you home. Is that okay with you?"

Grace was silent for a moment, thinking hard, until she finally nodded. "That's a good girl, Grace," Fran said. "Maybe some other time we'll see each other in the park, how does that sound?" Again, Grace nodded and Fran pushed the girl's hair behind her ears. "Ok, how about we find your sister?"

Grace smiled for the first time at Fran then grabbed one of her hands, pulling her to her feet. Fran glanced over at Val and shrugged her shoulders. With hands clasped together, Grace led Fran down the walkway in the direction her sister had run off, the nanny trailing behind, face scrunched in annoyance, not happy with someone taking over her duties.

They found the older sister near a stone bridge. She was sitting under a tree watching other families laughing and having fun together. "Maggie!" Grace called out and the girl turned to face her younger sister, seeing a strange woman holding her hand and her nanny following closely behind.

"This is unacceptable, young lady," the nanny scolded. "Just wait till your father hears about this."

Fran watched as Maggie's eyes filled with anger. "I don't care what Father has to say! He's never around to care! And I told you before; you're not my mother! You can't tell me what to do!"

Fran felt awful. She'd never seen two beautiful young girls so broken and upset. When she woke up this morning she had no idea she'd be in this situation. But she was glad she ran into these kids. They needed help, and if she had to march down and confront their father, then so be it. She was going to make these kids happy again, that she knew for certain.

"Margaret Sheffield!" The nanny was growing impatient.

Fran decided this was her chance to interject. But wait, Sheffield? She recognized that name. The party. Sheffield. Maxwell Sheffield. She put two and two together. These two gorgeous girls were his daughters? And the boy was his as well? It is a small world, after all, Fran thought. She couldn't believe it. The man she had met last night at the benefit was the father of these two girls. Oh, how she'd like to give him a good talking to. But that would have to wait.

"Maggie, I'm Fran." Fran stepped closer to Maggie and gave her a warm smile. "I met your sister Grace and she was worried about you. Can you tell us why you ran off?"

Maggie just stared back at Fran like she'd seen a ghost. No one had ever given her this kind of consideration or attentiveness. "I-I just wanted to be alone," she said.

Fran smoothed her fingers through Maggie's golden hair. "You're a teenage girl, that's to be expected."

"I'm too old for a nanny. I don't need someone to look after me. I'm fourteen years old. I can take care of myself."

Fran continued to run her hand through Maggie's hair. It was a beautiful pale blonde, and shortly cut. "And I'm sure you can, sweetie, but your younger brother and sister need her."

Maggie suddenly turned away from Fran. "What they need—what we all need, is a mother." Her voice began to quiver and soon enough her cheeks were wet with tears. "Our mother died a few years ago."

Fran pulled Maggie into her arms, her heart breaking, letting the girl cry it out. Then Grace joined in the hug, squeezing between Fran and her sister. The nanny was standing several feet away, unsure of what to do, feeling helpless.

"Hey, what's going on?" a timid voice asked.

Everyone turned around to see who it was. "Go away, Brighton," Maggie said through the last of her tears. "This is girl talk, for girls only."

Brighton held up his hands defensively. "Fine, I'll just go back and play. I was just wondering where you guys went."

Fran disentangled herself from Maggie and Grace and stepped over to Brighton. "Hi, I'm Fran. I was just getting to know your sisters."

The boy just stared at Fran. Then he said with a smirk, "There's not much to know. They're both boring and unexciting."

"Brighton!" both girls shouted at once.

"Now Brighton that's not very nice to say about your sisters. For all I know, you could be just as boring," Fran replied with a smile. She heard Grace and Maggie giggle.

Brighton's mouth hung open. No one had ever relayed one of his insults back at him. In an instant he decided he liked this Fran woman. "Do you know how to play football?" he asked, holding out the leather ball.

Fran smiled widely. "Oh do I! I play it every Thanksgiving. In my family you have to wrestle to fill your plate."

Brighton laughed. "Can I come to your house on Thanksgiving and see?" he asked innocently.

Fran patted him gently on the cheek. He was so cute, she thought. "I'm sure my family would love to have you, but it would have to be up to your father."

He grabbed her hand. "Then come on, let's go ask him."

"I'm afraid I can't, Brighton. I have to meet with someone for lunch." His face fell in disappointment. "Ok then, how about we meet again here in the park next Friday? Make it a weekly outing?"

"Yeah!" all three kids shouted. They turned towards their nanny, eyes pleading. "Can we Nanny Kline, please?"

The nanny had been quiet and unobtrusive during Fran's entire interaction with the Sheffield children. She still looked apprehensive but she conceded. "I'll talk it over with your father, but no guarantees."

The three kids jumped for joy and swarmed Fran, already starting to love her. Looking at the beautiful angels wrapped around her, Fran didn't think her life could get any better than this.

A/N: Sorry for another author's note, but I just wanted to mention that considering Val, I'm not sure if her family has a plumbing business or not. I can't remember if it was mentioned in an episode or not. Either way, if I'm incorrect, sorry about that, you'll just have to deal with it. Anyway, if you love this story so far, keep on reading! I'll have the next few chapters posted soon!